


His Butler, Dedicated: Between the Lines

by AdrianBlack



Series: Between the Lines [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Choking, M/M, Oral Sex, Other kinks, Rimming, anyone else notice that Grell's name is spelled "Grelle"?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrianBlack/pseuds/AdrianBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“He had the impudence to speak disrespectfully about a Death God,” Grell explained, “so I pickled him in salt.”</em><br/> </p><p> Ever wonder what happened between Grell and Undertaker that would make him work for free for Ciel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Butler, Dedicated: Between the Lines

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much my fantasy plot filler of what happened between the opening of "His Butler, Dedicated" (episode 17, season 1) where Undertaker finds Grell sleeping in one of his coffins and when Ciel finds Grell impersonating Undertaker, whom he pickled. The italicized sections at the beginning and end are my transcriptions of the actual episode. The translations therein were supplied by Shinsen-Subs. Everything else _between the lines_ is me. ;)
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their splendid universe. I just use them from time to time for my own perverted needs. :P**

_"Oh? What a magnificent corpse! Such an exquisitely brutal murder!" the undertaker exclaimed, lifting the lid off one of the many coffins strewn about the room. "Instead of hiding these wounds, wouldn't it be better to highlight them in the shape of a petal by dying them pink?_

_"It is fun, so much fun, being an undertaker," he sang, dipping his hands in the water basin before moving on to the next coffin. "Now then, the next one is . . ." he trailed off uncertainly, frowning at the body inside. He hummed in displeasure. "This corpse is really third-rate. On second thought, make that fourth-rate," he stared at the red-head in the coffin. "It is not a downed body; furthermore, the mouth shows absolutely no signs of agony."_

_The teeth in the slightly open mouth were sharp and pointed. The body looked so peaceful it could have been simply sleeping. Between his folded black-gloved hands, there was a single red poppy flower, matching the red glasses and coat he wore. His red and white striped ascot was tied in a feminine bow. Suddenly, the eyes snapped open, and he began throttling the undertaker._

_"What did you just say?" He demanded in an unnaturally deep voice, shaking the white-haired man by the throat._

“Not . . . dead?” Undertaker gasped, the pressure of the man’s fingers around his throat doing amusing things to him.

The red-head pulled him into the coffin with him, their faces almost touching. From this angle, Undertaker recognized the man who had once visited his shop in the guise of a butler.

“Grell?” he choked out. His hands grasped the _shinigami’s_ wrists and attempted to remove himself from the crushing hands; desperate to get out of the coffin before his arousal was discovered.

“Oooh? You remember me? Yes!” Grell said in his normal, effeminate voice.

He wriggled in delight, the friction and pressure of the weight on top of him igniting his own arousal. With a slight shift, their growing erections brushed against each other and they both moaned in delight.

Eyeing him hungrily, Grell lifted his face the last inch or so between them and claimed Undertaker’s mouth. His fingers loosened their grip, but Undertaker’s long, sharp nails cut into his wrists, holding his hands in place.

Undertaker ground against Grell and slipped his tongue inside, cutting it on his razor sharp teeth. Their mouths filled with a sharp, iron tang and his nails broke the skin on Grell’s wrists, causing little trickles of blood to drip on his chest. Together they moaned in pleasure from the pain, blood spilling from both their bodies.

Breaking away from the kiss, Undertaker chuckled darkly, “How interesting.” He released Grell’s wrists and sat up, straddling him. “Yes, I would say this was a most unexpected turn of events,” he emphasized, rubbing his hands over Grell’s hard cock and up his chest.

His black-painted nails popped the buttons off his vest and shirt until he reached the colorful ascot. He untied it gracefully, slid the ribbon free and gagged Grell's mouth with it. With the speed and efficiency of someone who disrobes bodies on a daily basis, Undertaker made quick work stripping the squirming red-head.

"Mmph fmm," Grell approved unintelligibly.

"Yes, yes," Undertaker muttered in response. His hands guided Grell to roll over and get on all fours. He walked around the coffin, humming to himself, making small adjustments to the prone body; spreading his knees farther apart, pushing him down onto his elbows, sweeping the long, gorgeous hair off the pale, muscular back.

Satisfied with the display, he swooped around Grell's backside and spread apart his pert cheeks, inhaling the intoxicating musky scent. Grell moaned as Undertaker's hot breath exhaled over his pink, quivering rosebud. After a tentative lick at first, Undertaker wasted no time pleasuring the reaper. He gripped his ass hard, nails piercing the skin, as his tongue pierced Grell's core, tasting his insides. Blood ran in rivulets down the soft, creamy, white flesh.

Grell yelped from the pain, but his body betrayed him, pushing back against Undertaker's face, his cock hard as a diamond and leaking pearls. Feeling close to coming, Grell reached for his own cock, but his hand was slapped away by Undertaker. He pulled off with a squelch, and gave a sharp resounding slap to his ass, splattering red droplets all over the place.

"Oh this won't do. No, no. Not at all." Undertaker untied the gag, and used it to tie his hands together behind his back, effectively pushing his face into the satin lining of the coffin.

"Uuuhn! Please, please! I'm so close!" Grell cried, nearly in tears.

"Tut, tut. Hasn't anyone ever told you?" Undertaker pushed two fingers in, "Patience is a virtue." He scissored his fingers before adding a third, his sharp nails drawing more blood out of Grell.

With the added crimson lubrication, Undertaker slid his pinkie inside and easily tucked his thumb in his hand. His knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin, he twisted his hand back and forth, pushing gently until the tight ring of muscles opened up for his fist.

Buried to the wrist, Undertaker moaned at the tight heat surrounding his hand. There was a puddle of sweat staining the cloth under Grell's beet-red face. His eyes were screwed shut and he seemed to have stopped breathing.

"Shhh," Undertaker stroked his free hand up and down Grell's back. "Breathe, Grell, relax. If you stay like this, I don’t think I’ll ever get my hand back."

Grell squeaked and took a breath, trying to calm himself. Deep breath, after deep breath, his muscles slowly relaxed and when the hand inside of him gave a twist, his flagging erection took notice. Undertaker's knuckle brushed his prostate, and an entirely different kind of squeak came out of his mouth. Working his wrist in a tight twisting motion, Undertaker took care to hit the sensitive gland over and over again.

"Mhm, yeah-'M close," Grell moaned.

Tugging on his balls to stave off the orgasm, Undertaker carefully withdrew his hand and unfastened his pants, letting his cock spring free.

"Uuh! Nooo!" Grell protested, feeling empty.

Undertaker lined his massive prick up to Grell's gaping hole. Looking back, Grell caught sight of the huge cock and his jaw dropped.

"Oh yay! So that's what you've been hiding all along?" he asked, his rear wriggling in excitement.

The movement jostled the angle and Undertaker had to hold his hips to make him be still. He pushed the head easily through the loosened ring of muscles.

“Ooo! Under-TAKE-ME!” he screamed, as Undertaker slammed the rest of the way into him.

Their hips slapped loudly in the following silence while Undertaker pounded into Grell. His thrusts were harsh and his nails dug into the soft skin of his waist. Grell could feel his face bruising from where it was jammed against his glasses, contorted in the agony of pleasure.

“Yes,” Undertaker hissed, “that’s the face I’m looking for- beautiful agony, delicious distress . . .” his nails dug in and blood ran freely down Grell’s thighs, “titillating . . . torture,” he punctuated giving a deep thrust. Encased to the hilt, he stilled; the tight heat and the smell of the blood in the air pushing him over the edge with a shout of mirth. Emptying himself, he sniggered and convulsed with ecstasy. Laughing and panting, he collapsed over Grell’s backside.

“Will you quit your laughing and untie me?”

Still giggling to himself, Undertaker untied the knot binding Grell’s wrists together. Upon gaining freedom, Grell leapt out of the coffin in all his naked glory. Undertaker slid out sideways and landed on his back with his legs still draped over the edge. Grell sat down hard on his chest, arms crossed with a pout on his face.

“Is this how you treat a lady?” he demanded, pointing at his hard, unsatisfied cock. “You just tie her up, and tease her, then take what you want and leave her still needing?”

With a last little chuckle, Undertaker licked the dripping head in front of his face. Grell moaned and scooted closer, pushing his cock into the open mouth. Undertaker licked the fat vein underneath and gave a hard suck on the tip. His tongue played with the tiny opening, scooping out sweet precum and suckling it greedily. Grell’s thrusting became jerky and he was mumbling incoherently to himself. Knowing he was close, Undertaker lifted his head and took the whole cock down his throat, swallowing convulsively.

“Oh! Yes!” he squealed, coming in great spurts.

Grell sat down heavily on Undertaker’s chest and panted until he caught his breath. “I still need to punish you for calling me third-rate. Oh wait, ‘on second thought, make that fourth-rate’.”  He scowled at the undertaker.

The shop had a myriad of ghastly torture items from which to choose from, but the one that caught his eye was the large clay pots in the corner. “Yes, revenge,” Grell grinned toothily at Undertaker.

Popping the buttons, Grell opened his coats. His fingers lingered at the sensitive scar on his throat making Undertaker hiss in pleasure. They brushed over his dusky nipples and trailed down the sparse hair to his groin. He gave his spent cock a flick and it twitched feebly in response.

“Ok. Take the rest of your clothes off and follow me,” he sang and skipped over to the corner to examine the man-sized jugs.

Undertaker stripped and watched the reaper dig through his pickling jars. Looking in a nearly empty one, Grell folded himself over the edge, his naked ass wiggling to keep his balance. Not one to miss a golden opportunity, Undertaker sidled over and spanked him hard.

Grell’s yelp echoed through the inside of the jar. He hopped off the edge and grabbed Undertaker by the throat again. Giggling madly, the undertaker let himself be pushed into the giant jug that happened to be half-full of salt. Burrowing his legs in, he relished the grit of the salt grating on his slick cock, his laughter a little breathier. Grell scooped more salt from a different jar and filled it all the way up to his neck. He modeled Undertaker’s hair around his face, in much the same way Undertaker had modeled him earlier.

He watched serenely while Grell put the undertaker’s clothes on, giggles still bubbling from his mouth. He fastened all the little buttons on the frock coat and tied the sash over the long robe-like outer coat. Finding a wig in a cupboard, he tossed it on and started styling it; making a braid down one of the sides to match.

“Now, for the finishing touches,” said Grell, looking into the mirror.

“Hmm, he’s coming,” Undertaker said cryptically.

“Who? Who’s coming? Ooh oh, I’m going to be you. How do I look?” He made a little twirl. Undertaker chuckled and nodded, amused. The sound of approaching footsteps could be heard outside the door.

_The door opened with a squeak and Sebastian politely held it open for Ciel to come through._

_“May I come in?” he asked formally._

_Mimicking him perfectly, Grell-as-Undertaker, chuckled darkly, his back to the earl, “Welcome.”_

_“Undertaker, I have a favor to ask of you,” Ciel’s tone was commanding, if not slightly arrogant._

_“If that is the case,” Grell turned slowly and laughed, showing off his face. Ciel took a startled step back as he recognized the reaper in the red glasses. “. . . Let my humble being relish this most excellent romance!” Grell finished, dashing at Sebastian, wig falling off and red hair flying._

_He leapt at the dark demon, but Sebastian sidestepped him, letting him land face first into the wall. The impact knocked a skull down, which landed squarely on the top of Grell’s head, adding insult to injury._

_“Grell?” Ciel asked, confused._

_“Hi, Earl,” came Undertaker’s voice from the corner._

_Ciel approached the massive jar bearing the undertaker’s head warily, “Undertaker?!”_

_“He had the impudence to speak disrespectfully about a Death God,” Grell explained, “so I pickled him in salt.”_

_“Oh, the sensation of moisture slowly leaving the skin; it is out of this world,” was the sublime reply made by Undertaker._

_Sebastian held a handkerchief to his mouth, “What a dangerous pastime,” was his only comment on the subject._

_“What are you doing here?” Ciel asked Grell._

_“Investigating something on Will’s orders,” he said with a shrug, “However, I did not find much information and I got hungry and sleepy. Having a restorative afternoon nap in a field of flowers, I somehow ended up being carried here. It could have been a mistake not to breathe while sleeping,” he added, reminiscing. “And there I was waiting for a prince to wake me up with a nice, long tongue kiss.” Grell squirmed, hearts in his eyes as he looked conspicuously at Sebastian. His lips puckered up in imitation, hopeful that the butler would take the hint._

_Completely unperturbed, Sebastian inquired, “The subject of your investigation. . .”_

_“Certain Cinematic Records have been stolen of late,” Grell answered._

_Undertaker frowned._

_“Cinematic Records?” Ciel asked, confused._

_“No need for a brat like you to know about them,” Grell said loftily._

_But Sebastian explained, “It is a film upon which the memories of a person’s life are recorded. A Death God extracts it from a person doomed to die, and passes judgment on his life and death after watching it.”_

_Looking put out, Grell recovered quickly with a hair flip, “Let me make this very clear: you humans can only see it on the brink of your death.”_

_“Stolen? They are something that can be stolen?” Sebastian asked._

_“Well yes. They are kept in the library when not in use. The past of all living things – that is to say, of everything that is doomed to die – all the sins they commit are carefully recorded in the shape of a book.”_

_Catching on quickly, Ciel muttered, “A book created solely for the purpose of Doomsday.”_

_“A familiar story, is it not?” Sebastian asked knowingly._

_Undertaker took a lick of the salt he was buried in._

_“Undertaker, I need you to help me with something,” Ciel said._

_Laughing to himself he replied, “If so, bestow the finest laughs upon-“ trailing off, he glanced over at Grell, still dressed in his clothes, the salacious amusement he had engaged with him still fresh in his mind. “On second thought, my service will be free this time.”_

_Ciel seemed unnerved by this turn of events and glanced at Grell, deciding against soliciting an explanation._

**Author's Note:**

> I'll most likely be continuing to fill in the blanks from this naughty episode, but for now, it ends here.


End file.
